“Why, he’s gone,” she said aloud, when she got there and found no one in sight.
“No, I’m not, I’m here,” said the voice plaintively; “can’t you see me?”
Girlie looked about her but could see no one. “Who are you, please?” she asked.
“I’m supposed to be a joke,” said the voice, “though I have my doubts about it; nobody has ever been able to see me yet.”
“That must be very awkward for you,” said Girlie pityingly.
“Yes,” said the Joke, “it is. I’m afraid I shall turn into a Paradox soon, if it goes on much longer.”
“Gracious! what a long word,” exclaimed Girlie. “Whatever is a Paradox?”
“When a thing is what it isn’t and yet isn’t what it is, it’s a paradox,” said the Joke. “And since I am beginning to think it’s no joke to be a joke, I suppose I must be a kind of paradox,” he added wearily.
Girlie couldn’t think of anything comforting to say, though she really felt very sorry for the poor Joke, “for it must be so very uncomfortable to be invisible,” she thought, “and not even to know yourself what you really are.”
“Here comes the Royal Microscopist,” said the Joke a minute or two later. “You might ask him to try and see me with his microscope, will you please?”